Dr. Hottie

by Vivian Wood

  As she panted toward orgasm, there was a dim thought in the back of her mind. It wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind when she’d asked for comfort, but she had to admit it felt pretty fucking good.

  She opened her legs wider, unable to get enough of him. Suddenly, he stopped. Addy squirmed against the discomfort, gripped his head tighter and presented herself to him. “Say my name,” he demanded from between her thighs.

  “Jack,” she said, and his tongue flicked across her clit.

  The more she said his name, the louder, the more pleasure he gave her. When she finally came against his tongue, her heart pounded inside her head so loudly she could have sworn it shook the room.

  It wasn’t until she was coming down from the high that she realized it was the neighbor. A faint pounding sounded from the living room wall along with murmured exasperated sounds.

  “Looks like you pissed off the neighbors,” Jack said as he emerged from the sheets, her wetness spread across his face.

  “Who cares?” she asked as he spooned her again. “They’re probably just jealous. Who knows the last time they got laid?”

  “For all we know, it might be Jeremy.”

  Addy hadn’t considered that. Surprisingly, she also didn’t care.

  27

  Jack?”

  Nurse Bostian popped his head into the hospital’s break room. “There’s a Mr. Fuller here to see you? I’m sorry, the front desk tried to have him see someone else, but he was really… adamant.”

  “Ted Fuller?” Jack asked, his mouth still half-full with a stale sandwich from the cafeteria.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “He’s in room 2-E.”

  Jack dumped the rest of his lunch in the trash and rushed down the hall. When he opened the door, Addy’s dad looked the same as he remembered.

  Years of alcohol abuse gave people a certain type of pallid expression, a hunched-over look, that made them look years older than they were.

  “Mr. Fuller, what brings you in?” he asked.

  “It’s my heart.”

  “How so?”

  “It feels… kind of the same thing as last time,” he said.

  As Jack approached him, he was nearly knocked over by the smell of whiskey. He couldn’t tell if it had spilled on him, was just his breath, or a little of both.

  “Can you describe the sensation? Sharp, dull? Where exactly is it?”

  Addy’s dad pointed to the center of his chest.

  “It kind of comes and goes in waves,” he said. “Sometimes it’s sharp when it’s, you know, at the peak, and then it subsides to a more dull throbbing kind of pain.”

  Jack removed his stethoscope from his neck and gestured for Mr. Fuller to unbutton his shirt.

  “This’ll be cold,” he said. “Can you take your shirt off completely? I need to listen from your back. Sit up straight.”

  When the shirt was removed, the stench of body odor mixed with whiskey was almost unbearable. Jack listened to the heartbeat, a bit fast, but regular and nowhere in the realm of unusual.

  “Sounds solid,” he said. “As I recall, from your last hospital stay there was nothing found in your bloodwork. I’ll take another look at those records though. For now, I think we should order a full blood workup just to rule anything out.”

  “What… what do you think it is? A heart attack?”

  “I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think so,” Jack said.

  “Are you… are you gonna tell Addison?”

  “Addison?” Jack asked as he made order notes. “Not unless you want me to.”

  “No,” he said quickly. “Let’s just leave her and Kenzie out of it.”

  “Whatever you say. A nurse is going to come in and take care of the blood orders soon. Once they get back, I’ll go over them and discuss the results with you and we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

  “How long will that be?”

  “Hard to say, the nurse will have a better time estimate than me. However, things seem to go a little faster in the ER, and it hasn’t been too busy today.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly as he shrugged on the flannel shirt.

  It took three hours for the blood results to come back.

  “Well?” Jack asked the nurse as he handed over the results.

  “Nothing too out of line,” the nurse said with a shrug. “He’s a drunk, right? I mean—”

  “Thanks,” Jack said quickly.

  He scanned the results. Surprisingly, for a man who drank his calories and otherwise subsisted on red meat whenever he could, he was relatively healthy. However, the B-type natriuretic peptide protein was slightly elevated.

  Jack had expected it to be higher given the years of alcohol abuse, but it was still technically within a “worry-free” range.

  “That took a long while,” Mr. Fuller said when Jack knocked on the door.

  “Actually, that was speedy in ER time,” Jack said.

  “Okay, give it to me,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your bloodwork is largely normal,” Jack said. “There’s a small elevation of the B-type natriuretic pep—”

  “English, doc.”

  “It’s a protein that’s produced by the heart. It’s high, but not at a dangerous level. At this point, it’s something to keep an eye on. Maybe go see your GP and retest it in a month. I, uh, would recommend laying off any drinking until then because alcohol can exacerbate it.”

  “You, uh, you doctors aren’t allowed to tell people that I was here, right? That’s what you meant when I asked about Addison?”

  “Well, no… doctor-patient confidentiality,” Jack said reluctantly.

  He clutched the results tighter in his hands. The bloodwork might be in the normal range, but he still had a bad feeling about it.

  That’s just what the medical field needs, he thought. Intuition.

  “Let’s just keep our lips zipped then,” Mr. Fuller said. He stood up and wobbled slightly. “This is something for us menfolk to worry about. Besides, I’m sure it’s nothing. That’s what the tests say, right? Nothing?”

  “Basically,” Jack said slowly.

  “Well, thanks, I guess,” Mr. Fuller said. “Think maybe I’m just still a little spooked after that last incident.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” Jack said. “It’s always wise to come in if you suspect something’s up.”

  As he watched Mr. Fuller head down the hall toward the exit, he paused only briefly before he ran after him. “Mr. Fuller? How did you get here?”

  “Taxi,” he said gruffly.

  “My shift is just about over. Would you like a ride home?”

  “That sounds real nice, doc. Thank you.”

  “Okay, just… just wait right here. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  The ride to Addison’s house—her old house—was largely quiet. Mr. Fuller was a man of few words.

  I can’t believe he doesn’t know we’re married. Where does he think Addy’s living?

  “You single, doc?” he asked suddenly as they pulled up to the house.

  “Uh… well…”

  “Hell, you’re young. ‘Course you are. Have fun with it. But just so you know? When it comes time to settle down, you’re not gonna find nobody better than my Addison.”

  “I don’t doubt that, sir,” Jack said. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his face.

  “If and when the time comes, you just let me know. She can be feisty and stubborn, but underneath it all she’s got a heart of gold. Takes after her mother in that way.”

  “Take care of yourself, Mr. Fuller,” Jack said.

  As he watched Addy’s dad climb the steps, he briefly wondered if he should escort him in.

  And then what? Become his volunteer caretaker?

  He shook his head and pulled away. When he walked in the door, Addy was curled up on the couch streaming Stranger Things.

  “Come here,” she said. “I just started the sec
ond season.”

  She opened up the blanket she was buried under and he slipped out of his shoes to join her.

  Any thought of telling her about her dad disappeared when she reached beneath his scrubs.

  “I thought you wanted to watch the show,” he said from behind her.

  “And I thought you knew what Netflix and chill meant,” she said. “You smell like hospital.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “I dunno. To me it just smells like you now.”

  She gripped him in her fist while he lifted up her skirt to find nothing but soft, bare skin underneath.

  “Were you planning this?” he asked and kissed her neck from behind.

  “Maybe.” He reached for her to turn her toward him, but she resisted. “No. From behind.”

  Addy guided his tip toward her and he gritted his teeth at the heat of her entrance. She lifted her top leg and wrapped it across his calf to pull him toward her. With one hand she clung to the couch cushion. The other was between her legs where she played with her clit.

  Jack went along with it, although as he entered her he couldn’t help but remember the way Mr. Fuller had touched his chest.

  It’s my heart. Addy began to pant and push her ass against him.

  He grabbed her hip and thrust into her. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure it out.

  The tests were mostly normal. He’d seen much worse results in other patients that still didn’t call for delving deeper.

  “Fuck me harder,” Addy moaned and pulled him back into the moment.

  He leaned toward her and bit her shoulder as he changed angles to glide against her G-spot.

  Maybe it really was nothing, he told himself.

  Alcoholics and drug addicts, some of them were nearly indestructible. It was like they’d built up such a tolerance they nearly had superhero powers, coming back from the literal dead with surprising regularity.

  “Make me come,” Addy groaned.

  He reached for her nipple and rolled it between his fingers. She responded with calls of his name. Normally that would put him over the edge, make him feel like she belonged to him, but what had happened with her dad made him nearly a spectator.

  “Come on,” Addy said. “Make me come.”

  Jack slid his hand down her toned stomach and brushed her hand away. He pushed against her clit and made her cry out.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Like that. Faster.”

  Jack obliged, followed her directions, and fucked her the way he knew she liked it. The way he knew would make her orgasm hard and fast.

  As he felt her come, the walls of her insides clenching and releasing his hard length, he watched Winona Ryder’s face over Addy’s shoulder. She looked scared and confused.

  “You didn’t come,” Addy said, sleepy and disappointed over her shoulder.

  “Oh, uh, sorry. It was a long day.”

  “What can I do?” she asked. “Come on, I want you to feel good.”

  Addy started to lower herself on the couch. As he felt her tongue on his tip, her lips wrapped around his cock, he closed his eyes and willed the picture of her dad from his mind.

  It took twenty minutes, but when he finally released himself into the back of her throat, he’d completely forgotten about the old man’s heart.

  28

  What’s Jack doing on his day off?” Dawn asked.

  Addy dumped the tray of dirty dishes in the sink and wiped her brow.

  “Shopping for some kind of jet ski thing,” she said. “And you know what that means. The next time we both have a day off, he’s going to drag me off on that death trap.”

  “You don’t know how lucky you are,” Dawn said. “I’m lucky to get a night out that’s more exciting than a movie and dinner at Dusty’s.”

  Addy laughed. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Addy?” The girl who’d just come on for the lunch shift stuck her head in back. “There’s a call for you. It’s… it’s the hospital?”

  “The hospital? But Jack’s not there …” Addy headed to the cash register and picked up the landline, confused. “Jack? What are you doing at work?”

  “Addison Fuller?” the woman asked. She didn’t recognize the voice.

  “Yes, that’s me. Is Jack okay? What’s—”

  “Is Theodore Fuller your father?”

  “Yes.” Her blood turned to ice. Of course it was Dad. Of course. “What happened?”

  “He came to the ER in an ambulance and has been moved to the ICU.”

  “Is he okay? He’s in the ICU, so that means he’s okay, right?” Addy whipped off her apron even as she spoke.

  “Your father has cardiomyopathy.”

  “What… what is that? Like a heart attack?”

  “It’s when the heart becomes enlarged, and… are you able to come in right now? I can’t tell you much over the phone, it’s best you talk to a doctor.”

  “Yeah, yes, I’m coming,” she said and slammed down the phone.

  “Everything okay?” Dawn asked. Addy jumped at the voice.

  “No, my dad—he’s in the hospital. Can you cover for me?”

  “Sure, yeah,” Dawn said. “Go, we’ve got this.”

  Addy pulled out her phone as she ran toward the car. Briefly, she paused, not knowing who to call first.

  Jack or Kenzie? But when she opened her call app, it was Jack’s name she tapped.

  “Hey!” he said. “I’m glad you called. I can’t decide between the Ski-Doo—”

  “Where are you? Are you in town?”

  “Yeah, some place on Pine. Are you okay? What happened?”

  “My dad’s in the ICU.”

  “I’m on my way. Are you driving there? Do I need to pick you up?”

  “I’m driving, I’m leaving the restaurant now.”

  “Did they say what it was?”

  “Cardio—something. I can’t remember.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  Addy flipped the phone to speaker mode and dialed Kenzie.

  “Addy, you better have a really good reason for waking me up,” Kenzie said, groggy. “I have the whole day off and I’m not—”

  “Dad’s in the hospital.”

  “What?” The sleep disappeared from Kenzie’s voice.

  “Where were you?”

  “Where was I?”

  “Kenzie, goddamnit! He took an ambulance to the ER, where were you?”

  “I… hold on,” she said with a whisper. “I’m at a friend’s place. Hey,” Kenzie whispered to someone. “What’s the address of this place?”

  Addy could hear a deep male voice reply.

  “Kenzie! How long will it take you to get to the hospital?”

  “I, um. I think my car’s here. What! We’re in Indian Hills? Addy, it’ll take… a little while. I’m leaving now.”

  Addy hung up before she could say anything more. Or burst into tears. Whatever came first.

  How many nights was Kenzie hooking up with random guys and leaving Dad alone?

  She never should have moved out. That was obvious. Now look at what had happened. And she couldn’t even blame Kenzie, since her sister had never had a speck of responsibility.

  It was on her. Whatever happened to her dad, it was all her fault.

  Jack was already there when she pulled up to the hospital. He paced in front of the doors.

  “Jack! Did you see him? Check on him? Is he—”

  “I did, briefly. He’s asleep right now, but stable.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “They’re not letting anybody see him right now.”

  “But you’re a doctor here! Can’t you—”

  “I don’t make the rules, though,” he said. “Come with me, we’ll talk to the doctor who’s been handling the case since he was transferred to ICU.”

  He grabbed her hand and led her into the brightly lit hospital.

  “But can’t you be his doctor? Can’t you—”

  “One thing at
a time, Addy,” he said. He sounded so confident, so sure, that it made her fall quiet.

  “Addison Fuller?” the doctor asked.

  She’d never seen him before, but his age and stature were soothing. He must have been in his fifties and his white coat fell almost to his knees. Thanks to Jack, she knew that the longer the white coat, the more experienced the doctor.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” she said. She didn’t even bother to correct the surname.

  “Your father had cardiomyopathy. It’s when the heart gets bigger and thicker, and in turn weaker. It’s often worsened by excessive alcohol use, although age and genetics are usually the primary cause. Your father’s blood alcohol level was almost three times the legal limit when he was admitted. It’s… quite shocking, really, that he was even conscious let alone had the wherewithal to call an ambulance.”

  “Jesus,” Addy said.

  She faltered, and Jack caught her elbow to lower her into one of the chairs in the waiting room. Vaguely, Addy was aware of all the people around her. Some stared at her, while others were wrapped up in their own pains and traumas.

  “Miss Fuller? Are you alright?” the doctor asked.

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Does your father have a history of alcohol abuse?”

  “Yes,” she said meekly, embarrassed.

  “We also tested his liver, given the BAC levels and cardiomyopathy, and it looks like your father is in the middle stages of alcoholic liver disease. Not all alcoholics develop this,” he continued.

  Addy flushed at the word “alcoholic.” It sounded like it rang out through the waiting room.

  “However, it’s more common in those who also have poor nutrition. Miss Fuller, I have to tell you, your father is on the border of developing liver cirrhosis.”

  “What… what does that mean?” She was aware of Jack’s hand wrapped around hers, but the comfort it offered was minimal.

  “Well, up until cirrhosis, the liver is able to repair itself. In early stages the symptoms are barely noticeable, if at all. Unfortunately, this means that the liver can become damaged beyond repair before the patient is aware of the problem.”

  “But you said he’s borderline. So it can be fixed, right? His liver can still fix itself?”

  “Anything is possible,” the doctor said. “But in my opinion, I don’t think that’s likely. I believe this event might have pushed him over the edge and when we retest I foresee him to be in full cirrhosis.”